


Day 23 - Arguing

by elessar_undomiel



Series: 30 Day OTP Challenge - Johnlock [24]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Drugs, M/M, Pining Sherlock, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-13 00:18:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4500453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elessar_undomiel/pseuds/elessar_undomiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sure, it’s for a fucking case, it’s always for a fucking case! You’re gonna be killed for a fucking case and you know what? I don’t give a shit. Not anymore. Do whatever the fuck you want!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 23 - Arguing

“You’re a fucking idiot” John was shouting at the top of his lungs. He had never felt so angry. “You fucking… Shit, Sherlock, what the fuck where you thinking of?” 

“Oh, shut up John, you’re not my mother!”

“No, I’m not, I was supposed to be your fucking best friend, but apparently you don’t give a shit, so I’m not even that anymore!”

“Oh come on John, it was for a case! I’m not like that anymore!”

“Sure, it’s for a fucking case, it’s always for a fucking case! You’re gonna be killed for a fucking case and you know what? I don’t give a shit. Not anymore. Do whatever the fuck you want!”

John rushes upstairs and shuts the door, grabbing a suitcase and stuffing as many things as he could in it. He went back downstairs. He heard Sherlock’s voice shouting when he passed by the door “Yeah, go away, I don’t need a presumptuous dickhead to tell me what to do. You think you’re so much better than me, but you’re a junkie as much as I am!”

He heard him until he reached the ground floor; when he shut the door of 221B he was only reached by a vague muffled noise.

* * *

Sherlock heard the door shutting downstairs but he kept on shouting. Then he realised what had happened and he froze in place. John had gone. John had left him. Sherlock had buggered everything up.

He felt his knees shaking and realised that John’s armchair was right in front of him. He curled up on it and cried.

It had seemed so easy. John was with another girlfriend, the umpteenth stupid floozy, and he had left Sherlock alone, saying he wouldn’t come back that night. And Sherlock couldn’t think of what John was surely doing. He couldn’t think of him touching her, loving her; it hurt too much. So he had grabbed his old syringe and let his seven percent solution chase away his pain.

When he had come back to himself, John was shaking him and shouting his name. He had come back early and found him unconscious on the sofa, and he was beside himself with anger. Anger and disappointment. And he had screamed, and asked for an explanation, and Sherlock couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t tell him how desperately in love he was, how wrecked he felt every time John left him for yet another woman, so he had screamed back. And now John had left, and Sherlock didn’t even have the strength to hit up. He wanted to feel it. He wanted to feel the pain, and maybe it would be painful enough for him to die and stop suffering.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry. I had to. But I swear that tomorrow they will fix everything!!


End file.
